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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27712826">These still waters</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fayet/pseuds/Fayet'>Fayet</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A little crack, And tentacles for everybody!, Eskel loves Geralt, First Kiss, Growing Up Together, Joyvember, Light Sexual Content, M/M, Monster of the Week, Pining, Though no monsterfucking happens, Young witchers on the path, a little blood, a little smut, a little violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:29:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,695</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27712826</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fayet/pseuds/Fayet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a chance meeting, a shared contract and a trip down memory lane. Two lakes, one monster, a lot of tentacles, a kiss from long ago and a bit of vodka. It could be so easy. Maybe it is. </p><p>Or, as Eskel says:  "You can set everything on fire if you're just serious enough about it."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>75</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>These still waters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I just really wanted to write about a tentacle monster. And Geralt's and Eskel's first kiss. And something a little bit less angsty than usually. </p><p>So this happened. It's a one-shot, it's a bit cracky, it's a bit fluffy, it's a bit angsty, it's a bit sexy. There's tentacles. Of course there are. </p><p>The fabulous stillmadaboutpetra took the time to look this over and provided the title. All remaining mistakes, typos and tentacles in this piece are mine. Sorry for any rogue suction cups.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Scanning the notice board Eskel finds it filled with the usual litany of requests for cheap horseshoes, someone losing their goat and now needing a gardener, large quantities of hay for sale and, curiously enough, somebody wanting to buy used boots for a unusual large sum of coin, preferably from young ladies. The last notice makes him snort and shake his head a little before he turns around and surveys the market square.</p><p>The village is not quite bustling with activity at this time of the day, people either busy on the fields or tending to their gardens. The past days have been beautiful, nothing but cool nights and crisp but bright mornings. Eskel has enjoyed his leisurely path through the woods, hunting in the twilight and making camp under the clear night sky. But rabbit meat does get a bit boring after five days, and his pockets are quite empty. It's been a while since the last contract, and while he's not exactly in a hurry to procure money or to spend it, he feels the familiar itch of wanting a big hunt. This month has been slow so far, nothing of interest crossing his path besides the odd wraith and a couple of angry wood trolls that had been infesting a local Lord's garden. </p><p>But given the state of the notice board he's not going to find anything worth his while here, and while his boots are nicely used he won't pass as a dashing young lady anytime soon. With a sigh he departs from the notice board, and makes his way across the mostly empty market square, past the small shop selling vegetables and bread and onto the main road which will lead him towards the stable where he has left his horse in the care of a young boy. </p><p>There's a few more pedestrians here coming back from their fields and gardens or on their way out of the village, but they seem mostly uninterested in him. His swords draw a few glances here and there, but the villagers don't make haste to get out of his way. A few nod at him and one lad even smiles, which is a little curious. People tend to be unwelcoming towards a witcher in times of empty notice boards. Things change when something that requires his service is causing them problems, but even then they can be hostile, angry that they have to spend money on a service they don't want to require in the first place. It confused Eskel mightily at first, but now, a few years of experience on the path later, it barely manages to bother him anymore. </p><p>So he marches on, turns a corner and suddenly finds himself in the middle of a small gathering of people standing around in front of one of the larger homes in the village. At the centre of the gathering stands an older man in a belted tunic with a cloak draped over his shoulders, cheap rabbit fur visible at the collar. His hair is grey and already thinning, unlike his bushy and rather impressive beard. Next to him wait two lads in what probably passes as armour in these areas, swords by their sides and keeping close to what has to be the alderman of the village. They are nervous, trying their best to stand still but fidgeting just a little, and Eskel can feel their too fast heartbeat. </p><p>They must be the guardsmen of this tiny rural backwater, and they are clearly supposed to protect the alderman in case any trouble should arise while he's negotiating, which is a little ridiculous given that their rusty toothpicks look like they would no match at all for the silver and steel swords Eskel can see sitting on Geralt's back. </p><p>Around them a group of villagers stand and stare, and they turn a little as Eskel makes his way through their circle and whisper because one witcher is already a rare sight in these areas, but two at the same time are like a donkey suddenly reading a book. But they part willingly and let him pass through, and Eskel watches Geralt slightly tilt his head to the side to acknowledge that he already knows he's not the only one of their kind in the village, has probably known before Eskel even turned the corner. </p><p>" - as I said, we are not sure what exactly this beast can be. But you are the professional here, Witcher, you will find out." </p><p>The alderman has already turned halfway and stared at Eskel before he's even arrived in the centre of the gathering, surprised at seeing him and clearly unsure how to proceed. The two lads with their rusty toothpicks look a little more panicked than before, but Geralt only shrugs and nods towards Eskel, now with emphasis so that the curious audience can clearly see the movement. </p><p>"Of course I will. That being said, any additional information would be helpful." </p><p>Geralt sounds completely calm, but the alderman is still staring at Eskel and the small crowd takes a collective step backwards, murmuring. It amuses Eskel greatly, because what are they expecting? He's never heard of two witchers duelling over a contract, nobody in their right mind would do that. The alderman, however, seems worried. </p><p>"Another one? We already have found a witcher." </p><p>He makes a motion with his head towards Geralt, but Eskel crooks an eyebrow and grins, making sure not to bare any fangs in the process. </p><p>"Indeed you have, and I have no intention of intervening." </p><p>The alderman looks back and forth between them, and at some point notices that they are wearing the same medallion around their necks. </p><p>"You are - " </p><p>He begins his sentence, but stops, and Geralt finishes it for him.</p><p> "He's a colleague. Same guild." </p><p>Tilting his head Eskel nods, musing over the choice of words. A guild, a colleague. Well. At least the alderman seems to be relieved. </p><p>"Well, it might be a job for two of your kind anyway. The beast is assumed to be rather large, though of course nobody who's seen it up close has returned. You will have to share the money, though. It's a fixed offer." </p><p>He raises his chin a little, clearly hardening up at the mention of coin, and Eskel sighs inwardly. It's always the same, here and everywhere. So he nods, agrees at the same time Geralt does, and the alderman exchanges a glance with his two guardsmen. </p><p>Twenty minutes later they are on their horses, riding towards the lake where the monster lurks in a forest not too far from the village. The entire crowd around the alderman and the guardsmen had followed them towards their horses and stood watching them depart, their curiosity keeping Eskel and Geralt from exchanging more than a curt nod as a greeting and preventing anything else. Even as the village falls away behind them they don't talk besides exchanging guesses on what creature they might be riding towards.</p><p>People are notoriously bad at describing monsters, and Eskel is used to that, but these villagers were almost hilariously inept. It lives in the lake, that was all they knew, but nobody could even tell them how long it has been there. People have been going missing from fishing trips for a long time now, but it took the villagers apparently years to realise that they weren't simply slipping and drowning on wet stones all the time. Nobody has managed to escape the beast and come back to the village to report on it, and none of the corpses have ever shown up again. </p><p>Finally they enter the woods, finding the large birch tree at the entrance of the path just like the alderman told them they would. The shadows of the forest fall over them as they move forwards, fallen leaves rustling under the hooves of their horses. Eskel can smell the lake long before he sees it, the water lapping at stones, algae and the musk of whatever inhabits it. Water creatures barely have their own smell, but anyone who's ever had their face full of drowner knows that isn't as true as one hopes it to be. Their conversation has ceased as soon as they have entered the forest, both listening carefully for signs of movement in the underwoods. Just because the alderman says the monster lives in the lake doesn't mean it really does. Plenty of creatures can move between water and dry earth easily, and they don't want to be suddenly embroiled in a fight they could have seen coming.</p><p>But nothing comes careening out of the trees and they pass through the woods unchallenged. They just follow their noses and then there's the lake before them, mucky green and perfectly still. A few large weeping willows are dangling their branches over the water, leaves brushing the surface and breaking it into soft ripples just like the many fish moving just below do. At the far edge a wall of bright limestone rises out of the water, young trees towering on top of it. The lake has shallow shores grown over with reed and various dry weeds, white and yellow water lilies bobbing in between the stalks. Eskel slips down from his horse and hears Geralt doing the same. Both survey the lake and then by silent agreement lead the horses slightly away from it, behind the first lines of trees to keep them away from the battle about to unfold.</p><p>Nothing has changed when they are back on the shore, clouds mirrored in the calm surface of the water. Next to him Eskel can feel Geralt scent the air, listen into the silence and wonders if there's anything Geralt with his enhanced senses notices that he doesn't. But when he's done he simply shrugs and moves closer to the lake. It looks inviting enough, some large stones close to the edge of the water, grass elsewhere, an inviting space to lounge in the sun after a refreshing bath. But there's no sign of any recent human activity, no footprints, no left-behind fishing equipment or discarded remains of catch. Geralt walks towards the edge and bends over it, watching his reflection distort in the soft ripples in the water.</p><p>Eskel watches his back, the hilt of his silver sword sitting on the dark leather armour and the slope of his shoulders underneath, his silver white hair tied back neatly. The view is still enough to distract Eskel, the familiar body hidden away but not far enough for him not to remember how it feels to touch. But he remains vigilant, one eye on the lake where nothing moves. Finally Geralt turns around and shrugs.</p><p>"Seems like we'll have to wait it out." </p><p>Eskel nods and casts a look around at the boulders. </p><p>"Unless you want to go for an underwater search." </p><p>Shaking his head Geralt selects a boulder with an excellent view over the lake and sits down, crossing his arms in front of his chest. There's another one nearby and Eskel takes that one, stretching his long legs in front of him. </p><p>"You mind me swooping in on your contract?"</p><p>Geralt lifts a white eyebrow and tilts his head a little. </p><p>"No. Might be useful to have backup, if the alderman thinks it's a two-witcher-beast anyway." </p><p>His voice is heavy with sarcasm and Eskel rolls his eyes. Humans are notoriously incapable of judging how dangerous a monster actually is, don’t understand that bigger doesn't always mean more dangerous, and tend to underestimate the importance of battle tactics and what a witcher can actually do. And they of course have no idea that Geralt is no ordinary witcher, that his twice mutated body can take down a few monsters Eskel would rather not battle on his own. For them the silver white hair is a sign of age and they simply ignore the fact that even in full armour Geralt is still looking shockingly young, barely more than two decades old, the hair not a proof of many years lived but of the anomaly of his nature even amongst a group of already strange creatures. </p><p>But Eskel knows this, of course, knows it intimately and very well, and neither of them are under any illusion that he's here for anything but the company, and maybe the very rare opportunity to fight side by side with Geralt.</p><p>And that is exciting enough, because it so very rarely happens. Seven years on the path and they've met only once or twice, their roads never crossing otherwise. They usually end up in different parts of the continent, far away from each other, making their own name and fighting their battles alone. Eskel knows that Geralt does this on purpose, avoids meeting any of his brothers on the path if it's just possible, has something to prove the others don't seem to care about. And Eskel has decided to let him, made peace with the knowledge that this is how it is going to be, their boyhood dreams of travelling together nothing but dreams in the end, colourful mirages risen from nights spent in fitful embraces and shallow sleep. </p><p>It is what it is, and they do see each other sometimes in winter in Kaer Morhen if Geralt decides to drag himself all the way back to Kaedwen, and very rarely like this, on random days on the path. It's a strange occurrence and it makes everything a bit awkward, something they are still trying to figure out. It always takes them time to readjust to the other when they meet now, the natural flow of their younger years nothing but distant memory at first. But it always comes back, sometimes in a slow process and sometimes with all the fever of two dying stars clashing into each other. </p><p>Judging from their slow conversation this is one of the occasions where they'll need some time getting used to each other again, maybe won't get there at all if the hunt is brief and the monster easy to fell. They'll collect their coin, split it up and then maybe spend one night together if Geralt feels like sharing his bed and body before they will take their leave, each going their own way on the path until they will maybe meet again in winter. There's nothing Eskel can do to change this, even though he tries. Every winter he pledges to himself to sort it out and then succumbs to the easiness of Geralt's embrace, his long legs wrapped around Eskel's hips, the heat of his skin leaving Eskel dumb from the emotional high he's riding and incapable of swimming against the undertow that Geralt is for him. </p><p>It's a circle he can't and maybe doesn't even want to escape, the pull of Geralt far too strong for him to resist. Even now it's there as they sit in silence on their boulders. Eskel should be thinking about the fight and whatever monster might be waiting for them, should consider which blade oil could help and if they might be able to lure it from the depth of the water. </p><p>But instead he stares at the lake, the surface of the silent water smooth like silver. Nothing moves. He can hear some birds chirp in the woods and small creatures move, squirrels and mice mostly. There's cool wind in his hair and Geralt's heartbeat in his ears, slow, almost in sync with his own. He listens and sinks a little into it, almost falling into meditative stillness inappropriate to their situation when Geralt clears his throat. </p><p>"Not a big lake, is it." </p><p>Surprised Eskel blinks.</p><p>"Suppose not. Rather small, actually." </p><p>Nodding Geralt looks ahead over the lake, arms still crossed. Eskel watches him from the side, the sharp line of his jaw with his hair tucked behind his ear, itches to touch and suddenly gets caught staring when Geralt turns and looks at him. </p><p>"Nothing like our lake." </p><p>Eskel nods and then feels his mouth go dry because Geralt's voice is layered with meanings that Eskel can pull apart too easily, reminding him that he's probably judged their current situation wrongly and that he can no longer read Geralt the way he used to. </p><p>But their lake, well, it lies at the feet of the slope Kaer Morhen sits on, right behind the bend, fed by water coming from the mountains. It's large and dangerous and gives birth to the Gwenllech that flows through Morhen valley and all the way down towards the sea, enough water to keep the river running fast over its shallow bed at the foot of the fortress. It is their lake because they grew up there, learnt how to swim there, hunted their first drowners there. </p><p>But Geralt only tilts his head a little and then turns back towards this lake, sharp eyes tracing the surface of the calm waters. His silence leaves Eskel alone with the images that are suddenly in his mind, the ghosts of their shared past that Geralt has conjured so easily silently encroaching upon him as Eskel plunges into memories. </p><p>Or rather into a very specific one. They are young, but no longer boys. Eskel, three years older than Geralt, counts himself a young man already, sporting the first stubble on his chin and having recently learnt how to shave without cutting himself. It was surprisingly difficult to learn considering that he's been handling sharp blades ever since he was ten years old, the strange new angles of his face making things worse. But he's taken comfort in the fact that Geralt is terribly jealous of the whole affair, desperately wanting to be older and grown-up himself. But he's still smooth-faced and skinny, despite years of training, and his voice only has started to crack at the beginning of this summer. </p><p>He's the youngest of the group and the other boys have spent the past years mocking him for it, making him push harder, work more and desperately try to be anything but the tiny wisp of a boy he is. He puts in extra hours whenever he can, sneaking out of the dormitory before their early wake-up call all summer to swim in the lake. It took Eskel a while to realise that Geralt has actually gotten official permission to do this, and he can't quite wrap his head around why anybody would crawl out of bed voluntarily at the crack of dawn. </p><p>Eskel prefers to lie in a little longer and can't find the cold water of the lake tempting, but on a fine day that promises to turn hot even this high up on the mountains he gives in and finally follows Geralt down to the lake. They slip out of the dormitory and minutes later are out of the fortress, through the heavy gate that they can barely push open on their own. </p><p>Above them the sky is already bright and they race each other to the lake, arriving on the shore out of breath and laughing. Eskel is taller and faster, first one on the little wooden pier jutting forward into the lake. He rushes until he's all the way at the end, the small abyss plummeting in front of his feet into the glittering water. From here he can see all the way to the other side of the valley where the Blue Mountains are rising, peaks snow-capped even at the height of summer. The lake is large and deep, inhabited by various creatures he'd rather not encounter. But this early in the morning the water is perfectly smooth, mirroring the empty early morning sky, silver tinged by the light. </p><p>It's peaceful until Eskel hears Geralt's steps as he barrels onto the little pier, stopping somewhere behind him. They are both panting, having run all the way from the fortress, sweat on their foreheads. It will be nice to cool off in the water and Eskel starts to strip without a second thought, impatiently tugging on the laces of his boots, pushing his breeches down. He can hear Geralt do the same behind him, the unmistakable sounds of clothing being pulled off and thrown onto the pier. The rough planks are warm under Eskel's bare feet and he reaches up to tug his shirt over his head. </p><p>But he doesn't get there. Suddenly there's fast steps behind him, Geralt running and then slamming into Eskel full force, sending both of them over the edge of the pier and into the lake. Eskel can't even curse before he's under the surface, cool water flooding his nose. For a brief second Geralt still clings to him before he pushes away, and then they are both with their heads above the water again, swimming. The lake is cool and Eskel has goosebumps everywhere, his shirt floating around him. </p><p>"You bastard!" </p><p>Eskel curses and coughs up water and Geralt giggles a little and swims away before Eskel can think of any revenge. He's a good swimmer but Eskel is faster, their age gap working in his favour as it does so often. Catching up he reaches out under the water, gets a firm hold around one of Geralt's ankles and pulls him in. Geralt kicks and shouts, but he doesn't stand a chance as Eskel reels him in and dunks him under water, once, twice, until he comes up spitting water and gasping for air. His normally unruly curls are stuck to his head and there's droplets of water falling down from the tip of his nose.</p><p>"I should drown you, attacking me from behind like this." </p><p>Geralt laughs and shakes his head, trying to get his curls out of his eyes and treading water.</p><p>"Yesterday you said nobody could sneak up on you, but I've proven you're a liar. You'll make a shit witcher if I can tackle you like that." </p><p>Eskel snorts, still trying to get the water out of his nose. He's slowly adjusting to the temperature of the lake, starting to enjoy it. </p><p>"You will make a dead witcher if you just throw yourself into lakes without checking for monsters first." </p><p>Geralt laughs and splashes some water in Eskel's direction. </p><p>"I have checked, and I got a weapon." </p><p>Eskel frowns but Geralt looks smug and turns around, offering his back. Eskel stares at his pointy shoulder blades and doesn't understand, but curiosity makes him trace down the line of Geralt's spine until his fingers find the leather strap and the small dagger that sits pressed against Geralt's skin, held there securely around his slim waist while not being in the way when he's swimming. </p><p>"Where'd you get that from?" </p><p>Geralt turns around again and grins, proud to have surprised Eskel. He doesn't seem to mind that Eskel's hand still sits on his waist.</p><p>"Casir gave it to me when he allowed me to come down here in the morning." </p><p>Eskel is impressed, but also a bit worried about the fact that apparently they could have to use a dagger while swimming. Geralt, on the other hand, continues to be smug at the surprise.</p><p>"See, I can protect you if something comes to try and eat us."</p><p>Shaking his head, Eskel keeps his hand loosely on Geralt's waist, the leather strap under Eskel's palm, Geralt's ribs prominent under his fingertips. This close Eskel can see the freckles sprinkled over his slim shoulders from all the hours of shirtless training in the courtyards. </p><p>"Great. And now help me take off my shirt, maybe it'll dry if I hang it up properly." </p><p>He sees Geralt's smile up close and then how he reaches down and tugs up the hem of Eskel's shirt, rather clumsily trying to get it over his head while both try to keep themselves above water. They only manage to entangle Eskel in it, and he shakes free of Geralt's hold and sinks under to finally get the wet garment over his head. He resurfaces, free of the shirt he's still holding in his hands, and suddenly Geralt is so very close to him and they are both naked and slippery and for some reason Eskel is suddenly very much aware of the way their bodies touch in the water. </p><p>He's too cold to blush, but Geralt laughs and then, without any warning, leans in and kisses Eskel square on the lips. It's not like Eskel imagines a real kiss to be like, but it's enough to leave him slightly dazed for a second. He tries to react, to reach out, because damn it he has wanted to kiss Geralt for while now and never dared to. But Geralt has already pulled back, seen his stupid grin and started to giggle, letting go of Eskel and swimming away. He's vanished from Eskel's grasp quickly, slipping through his outstretched fingers and out of reach. </p><p>There is the splashing of water, and Eskel needs a moment to return to reality.</p><p>Gone is the perfect blue water, the summer sky above Kaedwen and the cool water around him. Instead he's sitting on a boulder next to a murky green lake, the air a little stale, heavy with the scents of the forest and the algae in the water. Eskel is dry, properly dressed and fully armed, and Geralt is very much the same, dressed in solid layers of dark leather with the swords on his back and the infernal silver white hair disciplined into a neat braid at the back of his head, the bounce and unruliness of his curls lost in not one but two trials like so much of him. But he's still impatient, and that's something Eskel recognises too well. It usually manifests in small ways, and now it shows in the way he's risen from the boulder he's been sitting on. He's picked up a few flat stones on the shoreline and is busy throwing them over the smooth surface of the lake's water, trying to hit the perfect angle so they skip. </p><p>"Trying to lure the monster out?"</p><p>Geralt turns halfway to Eskel and shrugs.</p><p>"If it works. Thought you'd fallen asleep with your eyes open."</p><p>Looking at his own crossed arms Eskel tries for an answer but can't find one. Briefly he considers admitting that he's sunken into memories of kissing in a cool lake, because it should be a memory they both share. But Geralt has lost so much more than just his curls in the gruelling process of that horrible second mutation. With time Eskel has learnt to accept that there are entire years of their shared boyhood that only he seems to remember, but today he doesn't want to look into those amber eyes and listen to Geralt tell him that he can't recall that morning in the lake, or the kiss, or what it meant at that point in time. So he remains silent and just shrugs. Lucky for him Geralt is focused on the stones in his hands anyway, picking up more when he's thrown his first batch into the lake. </p><p>Eskel is still tied up in his memories, absently minded watching Geralt throw the first stone. It flies across the surface of the lake and then sinks, and he's ready to send the second stone skipping when he suddenly stops in his movement. For a moment his arm remains suspended behind him, frozen in place. Then he drops it and in one smooth movement very slowly crouches down, eyes fixed onto the surface of the lake. </p><p>"Look." </p><p>He says nothing else, but his voice is low and urgent and Eskel follows his line of sight. On the far side of the lake the water seems smooth, disturbed only by a few water lilies bobbing up and down, surrounded by other weeds growing in the shallows. But there's a movement there and Eskel feels it more than he sees it, instinct telling him that this is where he needs to go. Then he understands that what he thought were yellow water lilies are eyes, and they are looking at them on the shore, maybe have been observing them for a while now. </p><p>"What the fuck is that?" </p><p>He stands and moves closer to the spot where Geralt has risen again, standing poised forward, as if he's about to fall into motion any second. </p><p>"No idea." </p><p>None of the water monsters they usually deal with fits what they are seeing, which isn't a lot at the moment. It's not a drowner or a water hag, or even one of the more unsavoury creatures that tend to dwell in shallow lakes. This thing has multiple yellow eyes, and if Eskel focuses properly he can see the grey skin of the creature around them and the rough shape of its head. Geralt stares, and then tilts his head a little. </p><p>"It has tentacles." </p><p>Eskel looks at him and then at the lake again, and then he notices it, too. There are little spots everywhere in the lake where the water is disturbed by movement. Originally Eskel thought those were the circles caused by the passing by of fish, but considering the size of the head they can only guess that those are definitely not coming from any other creature. </p><p>"Plenty, it seems." </p><p>Geralt growls under his breath, and Eskel can practically see him trying to come up with a plan that does not include him throwing himself into the lake fully armoured to battle every single tentacle first before ever arriving at the head. There's a movement in the water and the eyes disappear into the murky depth of the far side of the lake. </p><p>"Fuck." </p><p>The annoyance in Geralt's voice as he draws his silver sword makes Eskel smirk, and then shake his head. Of course it doesn't go unnoticed, and Geralt turns to him while keeping a stern eye on the water, his blade loosely in his hand. </p><p>"Any better ideas?" </p><p>He doesn't even bother to explain himself, fully aware that Eskel has already guessed his plan of attack. They are too similar, their fighting too familiar. Eskel shrugs. </p><p>"Well, I don't want to get my armour wet, either." </p><p>Leather dries slowly and is stiff afterwards forever, making for uncomfortable travelling. Geralt nods, but rolls his eyes.</p><p>"Setting it on fire won't work on a water creature." </p><p>Tilting his head Eskel spreads his hands in acknowledgement of the statement, being only slightly offended at the realisation that Geralt is well aware of his penchant for igni. Of course he is. Everybody from Kaer Morhen knows about Eskel and his love for a little arson. </p><p>"You can set everything on fire if you're just serious enough about it." </p><p>Geralt groans a little, but the prospect of not having to battle this thing personally in the lake is enough for him to return his silver sword to his back. </p><p>"Alright, enlighten me." </p><p>Eskel grins. </p><p>"Are you still a crack-shot with that crossbow of yours?" </p><p>Raising a white eyebrow Geralt nods and saunters closer, clearly intrigued. </p><p>They need a few minutes to collect enough dried reeds around the lake, keeping an eye on the rippling water, one hand always ready to reach out for their silver swords. It takes them a little longer to tie the reeds into tight knots and soak them in the vodka Eskel still had in his saddlebags and feels willing to sacrifice if it means he'll have dry armour on his body for the remainder of the day. In the centre of each reed bundle is a very small stone to aid heaviness, and when they are done they return to the shore, Eskel with the reed bundles, Geralt with his crossbow. </p><p>The idea is somewhere between absolutely moronic and brazenly stupid and would make most experienced witchers wince in second-hand-embarrassment, but Eskel is giddy with the prospect of trying something new. If he's honest he'd have thrown himself into the lake with a silver blade in his hand, too, just like Geralt planned. But there's something in Geralt's presence that makes him a little reckless, especially when Geralt looks so terribly serious with his stern face and the damn hair, and it's tempting to try and make him relax just a little, dig out that playfulness that Eskel grew up with again, make him admit that he's got no idea what he's doing most of the time anyway, that they are really just figuring this out even now, after seven years. </p><p>And, well, he likes setting things on fire, if he's honest, and what's better to set on fire than an unknown tentacle thing?</p><p> So he throws the reed bundles across the lake, carefully aiming so they don't end up in the lake but catch on the dried growth on the other side. Some land on the large leaves of the water lilies floating on top of the lake, which is exactly what Eskel has planned for. He doesn't give himself time to question the sanity of what he's doing and follows the barrage of reed bundles with a blast of igni that sweeps across the lake like a wall of fire. Watching the sheer force of the sign he admits that maybe they could've just done it this way, and that it might have been enough and saved him the vodka.</p><p>But however they have achieved it, Eskel's plan works perfectly. The bundles catch the fire and keep it long enough for the dry reeds to pick the flames up, and some of the water lilies are soon blazing, too, flames fed by the reed bundles on the floating leaves. Eskel smirks a little at the face Geralt pulls when he sees the sheer force of Eskel’s igni and then again as he watches the fire catch. It smoulders and stinks hideously, and some smoke rises from the burning reeds. They stand on the other side of the shore and wait, listening to the crackling. The surface of the lake remains unmoving as they stand, Eskel having drawn his silver sword, Geralt waiting with the crossbow at the ready. </p><p>And then things happen fast and simultaneously. Out of nowhere a tentacle rises from the water, clearly aimed at Eskel and Geralt on the shore, the monster easily able to understand that they are the source of the sudden fire on the water. At the same moment the head of the creature resurfaces exactly where it had been before, yellow eyes blazing like the fire on the water lilies. The tentacle is rather slim but fast, and Eskel lunges forward to counter the strike with a good swing of his blade just as Geralt takes aim and lets the crossbow bolt fly. </p><p>The silver blade connects with the tentacle, slicing it in half. The chopped up part continues its flight through the air and lands on the shore, still twitching. At the same moment Geralt’s crossbow bolt has hit its target, embedding itself into the monster’s skull straight between the eyes, and what is left of the tentacle slams into the water and sinks. Geralt is indeed a crack-shot, perfect eyesight and the steadiest hands Eskel has ever seen. There's a gurgling sound and the head suddenly disappears, the water closing above it. </p><p>Eskel watches the now empty lake for a moment longer and then looks down at the piece of tentacle lying very close to his feet, twitching with some final signals coming from nerves no longer active. When he looks up Geralt has lowered his crossbow and is eyeing the fire dancing above the water. But there's no need to intervene and they simply watch it die down until there's nothing more than some smoke and smouldering reeds. </p><p>"Good shot." </p><p>Eskel examines his silver blade for residue of blood or other fluids before returning it to his back, and Geralt shrugs and comes closer. He prods the tentacle with his foot and turns it over, bending over to look at the suction cups.</p><p>"That was strangely easy. What is this? Looks like a gigantic kraken of some sort." </p><p>Shrugging Eskel keeps on looking at the tentacle and still has no idea. He's learnt the same lessons on monsters and creatures Geralt has, and they both haven't been on the path long enough to encounter many beasts that weren't in their books. </p><p>"Type of Illuyanka, maybe? But I thought those were more snake-like, less tentacles." </p><p>They both stare and then shrug, and Eskel is a bit smug about his plan working out so well.</p><p>"I've found that a lot more beasts have tentacles than I thought possible." </p><p>Geralt sounds very dry and matter-of-fact, but Eskel smells that there's a very good story behind his statement. </p><p>"Listen to the old and wise wolf talk. Not even a decade on the path but enough experience to correct the bestiary."</p><p>Taking on Casir's boring lecture tone Eskel can't help but mock Geralt a little, and earns a growl in return. Laughing he pats him on the well-armoured shoulder. </p><p>"Here's something I can tell you that we've both learnt and know to be true: no coin without a trophy."</p><p>Geralt's face moulds itself into an annoyed frown, and they both turn towards the now peaceful and perfectly calm lake. One of them has to go in there and cut the head of the beast off, and then they'll have to bring it to the alderman and demand their pay. Looking at each other again Geralt prods the tentacle on the ground in front of them once more with his boot.</p><p>"Suppose that won't be enough?" </p><p>Eskel shakes his head, and then snorts.</p><p>"Gwent or dice? Your call." </p><p>With a groan Geralt turns to get his bags from his saddle and return the crossbow while Eskel still looks at the tentacle, watching it twitch one last time. </p><p>It takes more than one round of their game before it's clear that Eskel is being favoured by the goddess of luck today. Grinning he leans back a little, watching Geralt's exasperated face. </p><p>"Fate has decided, off into the lake you go." </p><p>Geralt looks like he'd rather be literally anywhere else, but then he pulls himself together and stands up, earning a more gentle encouragement from Eskel. </p><p>"At least you're a good swimmer, the water looks remotely clean and you can return to dry clothing afterwards." </p><p>But Geralt doesn't look convinced and Eskel can't deny that he's probably right. They have no idea how long the strange monster has lived in this lake, but the villagers counted at least six grown men, three women and two children lost without any trace, and even if the thing has eaten most of them some of their remains are still in these very waters. Neither Eskel nor Geralt are squeamish, but treading water with corpses is nobody's favourite pastime. </p><p>Accordingly Geralt looks like he's bitten into something very foul, but true to the rules and without any way to get out of his predicament starts to take his armour off. He strips quickly and methodically until he's completely naked, unbothered by the fact that Eskel is watching him with some interest. There's a new scar on his chest right next to where the silver medallion sits and he's a little thin, but otherwise there's nothing about him Eskel hasn't seen before. And yet Eskel looks, not out of curiosity but because he has never been able to take his eyes off Geralt, no matter where or when, even after all these years. </p><p>"Do you still have that one ridiculously long silver dagger?" </p><p>Eskel does, and minutes later Geralt wades into the lake with that blade in hand, hissing through his teeth at the temperature. Standing at the shore Eskel crouches and drags a hand through the water, realising that it's indeed very cold. Apparently the lake is fed by an underwater source with a rapid turnover, fresh water flowing in before the old one has had time to heat up. That means the water really is rather clean, but the slightly indignant noise Geralt makes when he's in up to his hips doesn't make it likely that he's appreciating that particular fact, not when Eskel can see the goosebumps spreading over his shoulders.</p><p>But he makes short work of it, quickly wading in and then pushing off. With quick and confident strokes he reaches the other end of the lake, and then vanishes, diving to find the creature. The water closes over him and Eskel watches the surface settle into its calm mirror-like consistency again. The reeds on the shore have long since stopped smouldering, and only the smoke in the air remains from his rather moronic but surprisingly effective hunting trick. Halfway across the lake a fish passes closely below the surface, sending small ripples across the water. Looking down Eskel sees the tentacle lie on the ground a few feet away from him, and as he wants to look away again notices that it's twitching. </p><p>He realises their mistake in that very second, but there's nothing he can do. They learnt to avoid this scenario, got told a thousand times not to trust a one-hit-kill, always add a second blow to be sure, and yet this is exactly what they did. Instinct has him reach for his silver sword, but he's useless standing at the shore while the beast is waiting for Geralt at the other end of the lake. For a few seconds nothing happens, and then something happens, but Eskel isn't sure what, because it entirely happens under water and the only thing he sees is the disturbance on the surface of the lake. Suddenly there's twitching and curling everywhere in the lake, the entirely not dead thing pulling its tentacles towards itself in defence.</p><p>Eskel stands and stares, and has just come to the conclusion that he'll have to go in himself to take the beast on when there's a sudden struggle somewhere closer to the shore he's standing on and then Geralt's head emerges, spitting water. He's moving fast and in an instant he's on the shore and rushing past Eskel, dripping lake water everywhere, the silver dagger gone from his hands. Ignoring Eskel he crouches over his bags, pulls a small vial out and downs the content of it. For a split second he remains motionlessly on the ground, waiting. Eskel can hear his heartbeat and breathing remain calm for one, two beats and then speed up with the artificial adrenaline exploding into his veins. He all but drops the empty vial and instead picks his silver sword up from the ground, pulls the blade from the sheath and in an instant is back on his way into the water.</p><p>All of this happens so quickly that Eskel can barely find the chance to move himself. But as soon as Geralt sets foot into the lake again he's determined, slipping his own silver sword off his back, ready to charge in.</p><p>"Should have known the fucker is still alive, let me - "</p><p>But he doesn't get to finish his sentence. Geralt barely turns around as he moves deeper into the lake, sword in hand, growling a little, and Eskel can see the blackness from the potion spreading into the veins below his pale skin.</p><p>"Leave it to me." </p><p>A single order and Geralt is gone, leaving Eskel on the shore angry at the dismissal. He's more than capable of fighting this thing, too, and he wants to. And yet this is technically Geralt's contract and thus his monster. There's an unspoken rule not to intervene in another witcher's fight, not unless there's a clear chance things will otherwise really go to hell. Geralt will be pissed if Eskel steps into his battle, his pride difficult to appease in such situations. It's reckless madness to go into a fight with an unknown creature without any protective armour, nothing but a silver sword and his skin. But it's so very much in character for Geralt, who has been an idiot without any regard for his personal safety all his life, and there's simply nothing to be done about it. </p><p>So Eskel waits, poised on the shore of the lake after he's collected his own crossbow and loaded it, ready to put another bolt into the thing should it emerge in some stage of the fight. A little cover fire can never be wrong, just to be sure.</p><p>But when the thing emerges Eskel doesn't get the chance to fire anything anywhere. There's too much splashing going on, tentacles rising from the water and crashing down, Geralt's head appearing and vanishing again. He can stay underwater longer than a normal human and even than most witchers, excellent breath control and the potion aiding him in the fight, so Eskel does not worry about the lengthy periods in which neither Geralt nor the monster appear. He does start to worry, a little, at the clouds of blood rising to the surface and drifting across the lake towards the shore on an underwater current Eskel has not noticed before. It's red blood, but a lot of monsters bleed crimson, and it's difficult to tell what's going on there. </p><p>So he waits, counts seconds every time Geralt appears for breath and disappears again, tries to understand how the thing actually looks from the length and width of the tentacles he occasionally sees flung around. Then there's a sudden massive tremor, the water almost vibrating, the entire lake in movement. More red blood wells up and drifts towards the shore, but otherwise Eskel can see nothing. He's pacing now, still with the crossbow in his hands, but the monster does not resurface.</p><p>Geralt's head, however, does. Suddenly he breaks through the surface and apparently treads water for a moment. He's turned away from Eskel, his attention still fixed on a spot under water. He seems to take a moment to breathe and then sinks under again. The lake is completely still now besides the ripples Geralt has caused, no movement of tentacles visible, no pretend or real fish sending bubbles of air upwards. Eskel watches the water calm and then thick clouds of dark red and black blood well up, more this time, colouring larger parts of the water dark. </p><p>Finally Geralt resurfaces and remains with his head above water, first treading water and then starting to move towards the shore. He's swimming on his back, slowly as if he's burdened with a heavy weight, apparently using only his legs. Quickly his head comes closer and Eskel can see that he's indeed hauling something that's larger than him, slowly dragging it through the water.</p><p>When he reaches the shallow parts where he can stand he turns and rises, stalking out of the water like a minor god of war, eyes entirely black from the potion and dark veins protruding on his face and down his neck, water and blood running off his body. He's dragging the bulbous and many-eyed head of the water creature behind him, muscles strained under the sheer weight, the silver sword in his other hand dripping glittering water back into the lake. There's rows of teeth-marks over his shoulder and chest, blood running from the small incisions down his torso, the remains of now cut-off tentacles the beast had coiled around him trying to pull him down into the cold depth of the lake still wrapped around one of his biceps and his left thigh. </p><p>Eskel stands and stares, watching him emerge from the water until he's reached dry land. He drags the head onto the shore and then lets go before taking a few more steps onto the grass and dropping down himself, still graceful enough as he's sitting down, legs stretched in front of him, silver blade on the grass next to him. The severed off head continues to bleed into the lake, the many yellow eyes now unseeing, the crossbow bolt Geralt had fired initially still stuck in the middle of the head right next to Eskel's dagger. </p><p>Turning away from the dead beast Eskel lets the crossbow he's still kept in his hand sink down, finally relaxing his stance. He wants to compliment Geralt on the fight - this is a large monster and considering they hadn't known what it was, still don't know, battle had been improvisation - but when he turns and looks down to where Geralt reclines on the ground he can't say anything. Instead he simply looks, catalogues the various injuries on Geralt's body, the blood mixed with lake water on his torso, the tentacles holding on tight to his skin. He's breathing fast after the strenuous fight, the artificial adrenaline in his blood still firing him up. It will take a little longer for the potion to wear off and until then his eyes will remain black, the contrast to his pale skin utterly mesmerising. </p><p>They don't see each other hopped up on potions like this too often anymore. When they hunt in winter in Morhen valley there's no need for any alchemical help, and they so rarely go onto contracts together that the sight of Geralt looking like this still makes something in Eskel's blood react. It makes him turn away from the now definitely dead beast, set down the crossbow safely and move over to where Geralt is stretched out on the grass, kneeling beside him. Geralt is focused on his biceps, trying to pry the tentacle sitting there off his arm. </p><p>When Eskel leans over and reaches out he doesn't complain. Instead he simply stops his own worrying at the tentacle and lets Eskel's hands take over. There's the brief moment of contact, Geralt's cool skin under Eskel's fingertips and just the smallest amount of chaos ghosting over Eskel's skin before it fades out again.</p><p> It takes a bit to peel the tentacle off Geralt's arm, the suction cups on the underside of the dead beast's limb endowed with spikes Eskel hadn't noticed before. Now there's rows of them, tiny barbs sunken into Geralt's pale skin. Eskel tries to be gentle and pries the first row off, each suction cup letting go of Geralt's skin with a thick plopping sound, blood welling up.</p><p>"It'll be quicker if I just rip it off." </p><p>Geralt just nods and watches Eskel take the tentacle in a firm grip and pull. It gives, twitching in Eskel's hand and he's throwing it away so it doesn't wrap around his own wrist. Blood runs down Geralt's arm, rows of tiny wounds sprouting crimson.</p><p>"You think there could be poison in there?" </p><p>Eskel wipes a little of the blood away with his hand and sniffs his fingers, but there's nothing he can make out besides the murky smell of the lake and the heavy delicacy of Geralt's rich blood, tinged with bitterness from the potion.</p><p>"Can't feel anything."</p><p>It's doubtful whether Geralt could possibly feel anything at all right now, chest still expanding rapidly, his heartbeat a fast drum in Eskel's ears. Eskel trails a hand down his biceps and nods, turning towards the thicker tentacle wrapped around Geralt's thigh. The muscle twitches under his palm as he slides his hand upwards from Geralt's knee, and when Eskel looks up Geralt is leant back on his elbows, his uninjured leg stretched out almost leisurely, intently watching Eskel with hooded black eyes. </p><p>Feeling his own heartbeat speed up a little Eskel realises he has too much spit in his mouth. Trying to keep his cool he turns his attention back to the tentacle. It's stuck tightly to Geralt's thigh, barbed spikes dug deep into the muscle, and it takes a moment before Eskel can find a space where he can inch a finger underneath it. He drifts his hand around Geralt's leg and Geralt lets his thigh fall open easily, leaning into Eskel's touch. Finally Eskel's index finger slips under the tentacle and he can get a good grip, in one fluid motion ripping the massive thing away. This time more skin comes off, the wounds a lot bigger than they were on Geralt's upper arm, blood running down the leg. Throwing the tentacle to the side and watching it curl and flap in the air Eskel curses under his breath. He presses his palm against the wounds without much success, trying to wipe the blood away and in the process brushing his hand a little higher.</p><p>Geralt makes no motion to wave Eskel's touch away and it's difficult to overlook the fact that he's a little more than just half-hard despite the injuries and blood. That's nothing unusual at the end of a fight, the artificial adrenaline sometimes having the most curious side effects on them. For Eskel it's usually not a problem, a few deep breaths more than enough to ease his body out of any predicament, his mind usually too occupied with strategy and the plans for his next step. But Geralt lounges on the grass like a living invitation, seemingly completely unwilling to rein his body in, outwardly relaxed. His left hand still rests on the hilt of his silver blade where it's lying next to him on the grass, having never moved away from the weapon. </p><p>And Eskel's hand is still on his thigh, creeping upwards on familiar ground, and he's not leaving until told to. Instead he moves in closer, settling along the length of Geralt's body, leaning down. It's easy to slide his hand higher across narrow hip bones, rest it there while he drops his head low to brush his lips over the injuries on Geralt's biceps in the same movement as wrapping his fingers around his cock. It twitches once in Eskel's familiar grip and Geralt tips his head back a little.</p><p>"Taking care of me?" </p><p>Even his voice is coloured darker in its languid drawl, as if what is pulsing under his skin also sits on his tongue. Eskel growls.</p><p>"Always." </p><p>He licks at the wounds, tasting the lake water, the rich blood and the potion bitterness, tasting it now just like he's smelled it earlier. He makes sure to lavish attention onto the many little incisions, licking the pale skin clean while setting a slow rhythm with his hand, feeling Geralt shiver under him, pushing his hips into Eskel's grip. But Eskel focuses on the taste of his skin, mouthing his way upwards over his chest and shoulders, caressing the few scars he finds as he explores the exposed lenght of Geralt's neck. The taste of Geralt's blood remains on Eskel's tongue and that together with the growl vibrating in Geralt's chest makes Eskel want to bite, to sink his own fangs into already broken skin.</p><p>And he does, just enough to pierce the skin on Geralt's neck, drawing more blood, and Geralt curses low and bucks his hips, presses into Eskel's grip. Looking down Eskel relishes the difference, Geralt stark naked and spread out on the grass next to Eskel himself, completely wrapped in his layers of armour, metal and leather, the only parts of him not protected his calloused hands and face, both pressed into Geralt's skin. It should be a power imbalance and isn't one because Geralt is far from helpless, looking like a wild thing himself with the potion in his veins, the blood smeared on his skin and his free hand still casually spread over his silver blade. There is something unreal in the stark contrast of white, black and red, as if he were a strange and terrible god Eskel cannot resist and by all means must pay tribute to. </p><p>And he does, fangs scraping over skin, tongue tracing wounds, his hand steady in its rhythm. He listens to Geralt's heartbeat speeding up just a little more, the telltale small gasps as Eskel mouths over his exposed neck, pulling back to look his fill, finding skin with his tongue again. It's almost lazy and certainly intimate, but it doesn't last long. Eskel can feel the tension in Geralt's body, the sudden tautness and then Geralt raises his head and looks down so they both watch him come over Eskel's hand, the fluttering pulse of his muscles before he groans and lets his head fall back for a moment again, lips slightly parted. It's a familiar thing, Geralt watching himself come, something he's always done in all the years, never closing his eyes, as if he can't feel without seeing, needs visual evidence to justify the sensation. </p><p>He remains stretched out, his breath slowing in tandem with his heartbeat, the waves of pleasure seemingly having swept the artificial adrenaline from his bloodstream. He's only taken a small dose of it anyway and Eskel isn't surprised it's wearing off so quickly again. The wounds on his body have stopped bleeding, the ones the water creature has torn there just like the bite marks Eskel has left on his neck. But he doesn't move, simply breathing, and Eskel remains where he is, too, his hand first letting go and then pressing against Geralt's lower abdomen, the flat panes of his muscles from time to time twitching under the steady weight.</p><p>He wants to remain like this forever, in this forest where they are now the most dangerous creatures around, stretched out on the grass with Geralt sated and relaxed under Eskel's touch, calmed and kept in place. It's an illusion, as if Eskel's palm were enough to keep him from drifting away so quickly again, but one Eskel is willing to indulge in for the moment. Dropping his head into the crock of Geralt's neck Eskel inhales once more, the tangy smell of Geralt's pleasure drawing a low growl from his own chest.</p><p>He's certainly hard himself now, and yet unwilling to act on it. He's sure he could very easily convince Geralt to lend a hand or a mouth, but for some reason he wants to keep the moment as it is, not change anything, not request anything in return. It's exhilarating to put his hands on Geralt like this, to offer and be accepted, to feel the power ripple through Geralt's body and drink his fill of it. Any power imbalance between them will ever be fleeting, both of them created as apex predators, skilled hunters and killers, each in his own worth. Eskel has always been very much aware of his strength and might and cares not to surrender himself to anyone or anything, not in life and not in bed. And yet when he looks at Geralt stretched out on the grass like this, even now still powerful and deadly, he suddenly feels the need to get on his knees and take whatever he might be given. It's a rare feeling and he raises his head to evade the strange pang of need, feeling his own heartbeat speed up with the sudden and unusual desire.</p><p>Geralt feels it, Eskel's heartbeat probably like thunder in his ears. He pulls himself up a little, lifts his head and then looks at Eskel. The amber has returned to his irises and the darkness in his veins receded, his usual cool paleness replacing the stark bone whiteness of his skin under the influence of the potion. He looks down himself, Eskel's hand still pressing against his stomach and his come drying on his skin into a sticky film. He should look debauched but only manages to appear more powerful, more self-secure. Leaning in Geralt sucks in a deep breath Eskel can feel moving his abdominal muscles, the exhale ghosting over the stubble on Eskel's cheek.</p><p>There's no doubt he can scent the arousal in Eskel's blood, and Eskel can hear him hum close to his ear before he pulls back.</p><p>"You want?"</p><p>There's nothing to indicate what he thinks Eskel might want, but it's been so long now that Eskel knows there's no words necessary. So he simply nods, but then leans in again.</p><p>"Later." </p><p>He's not willing to get himself fucked right here next to their dead prey in the middle of the forest. It's a too rare occurrence and he wants to take it slow, will need a moment to give his control up like this, even if it's Geralt whom he knows literally inside out, whom he wants and has wanted forever, since that morning in the lake in Kaedwen or maybe even longer.</p><p>And Geralt understands and nods, seemingly completely at ease himself like this, naked next to Eskel fully armoured and armed, soft now, blood and come dried on his skin. He sits up fully and Eskel slides his hand up from his stomach over his chest and leaves it there. Geralt tilts his head and what is not tied back of his long hair falls forward, smelling like lake water, silver white and surprisingly soft. Eskel will never be able to stop hating Geralt's hair as the symbol for what they have done to him in that second mutation, the starkest reminder that he never got to keep the boy he loved so terribly and so desperately, that Geralt could not remain how he was. But there are moments like this, rare occurrences when Geralt is a predator made soft under his touch, and Eskel can use his clean hand and tangle his fingers in it.</p><p>He doesn't pull and yet Geralt leans in, the kiss surprisingly gently. Eskel's eyes close automatically and for a split second it feels almost like it did on that summer day back in the lake, even though it can't be, never will again. Something inside Eskel twitches with barely concealed hurt and yearning, the idiotic desire to turn back all those years and start anew. They can't, nobody can, and Eskel is pulled back to reality when Geralt drags his fangs over his lower lip and bites, drawing a tiny amount of blood he then sucks off, taking back the blood that Eskel has licked off his skin earlier. It awakens more desire in Eskel and he growls against Geralt, who smirks against Eskel's lips and leans back.</p><p>"Later, you said."</p><p>Eskel growls again, a rumble low and deep in his chest, but Geralt fully withdraws. In a smooth motion he's on his feet, stalking back towards the lake past the dead monster still lying there, its open yellow eyes having watched them unblinking. He wades into the water and bends over to wash, leaving Eskel to stare at the soft curve of his body folded over like this, a set of scars on his right shoulder blade, cool water taking away everything that was smeared on his pale skin. When he returns to the shore the wounds on his body have almost closed, Geralt's strange additional mutations granting him a healing speed that is almost frightening even to another mutant as Eskel is.</p><p>They dress and gather their weapons, Geralt's silver sword finding its usual place on his back, their bags and crossbows secured to their saddles. Eskel removes his dagger from the creature's head but leaves the crossbow bolt stuck where it was. They need a moment to figure out how they can transport the gigantic head to the village. In the end they knot rope and wrap it securely around the head, tying the end to Geralt's saddle so his long-suffering mare can pull it all the way down. It's his kill and he's earned the right to claim it as such, including all the coin, albeit Eskel suspects he'll spend most of it on a comfortable room for the night that they can share.</p><p>The anticipation sits low in Eskel's stomach, not unwelcome. It's quite a different feeling from having the outlook of a lonely night spent on the road with only his horse and fire for company, and he savours it all the way on the ride back to town. They leave the lake behind them completely silent, uninhabited now. The remains of the creature have already sunken to the ground to feed the fishes and organisms living there, and the green waters are perfectly smooth and shimmering, the little light that comes through the trees turning them into an unbroken sheet of softly undulating silver.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Joyvember is challenge stillmadaboutpetra, Eskelchopchop and me set ourselves. The goal was to write more happy fics. If you follow the tag you'll see that we're a bunch of angsty people, but both Mad and Chopchop did a lot better than me, I think.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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